The financial winter storm has arrived early this century and here we sit, alone and exposed, on the side of the road with not even a mink coat to keep us warm. Tire jack in hand, we finally pulled out the Bear Stearns doughnut tire and made that change to our front passenger-side flat without assistance. OK, so it’s time to hobble slowly back onto the highway and try to navigate D.C.’s new 2-lane Donner Pass, when what do we see in the rear view mirror, coming up from behind and seemingly out of nowhere? Two large white vehicles fast approaching at lightning speed; each driver blindly focused on its hot pursuit of the other and clearly oblivious to us or their surroundings.
Our heads spin, like Daddy Warbucks (see definition below) spending his last $5 billion, while we watch the White SUV zoom past us on the left leaving the White Minivan (see definition below) jammed up behind us. Imagine our surprise to see Bernanke, at the helm of the White SUV, swerve vigorously to block the side-swiping maneuver of Paulson in the White Minivan. Although Benny appeared to be confident about his lead in this amazing race, Hank’s face clearly reflected a distinct mask of determined victory. We were trapped in the middle and afraid for our future, afraid for our lives. Before eating their dust entirely, we had to pull over once again, this time to catch our breath.
In a state of complete disbelief at the steeplechase we’ve just witnessed, we feel compelled to ask the very question one would ask when the unbelievable has just occurred: what could possibly be in our blind spot now that we don’t see coming?
Our heads spin, like Daddy Warbucks (see definition below) spending his last $5 billion, while we watch the White SUV zoom past us on the left leaving the White Minivan (see definition below) jammed up behind us. Imagine our surprise to see Bernanke, at the helm of the White SUV, swerve vigorously to block the side-swiping maneuver of Paulson in the White Minivan. Although Benny appeared to be confident about his lead in this amazing race, Hank’s face clearly reflected a distinct mask of determined victory. We were trapped in the middle and afraid for our future, afraid for our lives. Before eating their dust entirely, we had to pull over once again, this time to catch our breath.
In a state of complete disbelief at the steeplechase we’ve just witnessed, we feel compelled to ask the very question one would ask when the unbelievable has just occurred: what could possibly be in our blind spot now that we don’t see coming?
A casual backward glance in the rear view mirror gives us a glimpse of another time, long, long ago….. back to the Salem witch hunt days of the 1690’s when the stored rye crop used for making the community’s bread developed mold, and those who consumed the bread it produced began hallucinating. In the acid-trip-like psychosis and subsequent hysteria that ensued, accusations began to fly and innocent bodies burned.
Snapping our attention back to today, we never cease to be surprised at how history repeats itself because we’re seeing it happen all over again. Except this time, the Moldy Old White Breads (MOWBs – see definition below) have begun eating each other alive causing similar mold-induced hallucinations. They’re seeing illusions in their side-view mirrors that only their fervent elite supporters can also see; fingers are pointing and accusations are flying.
What innocents will be burned at the stake while the two (appointed, but not elected) Cannibals decide who will be King?
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